


take me to the otherside

by TheLadyBlakeney



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, halloween is the superior holiday, nostalgia? for when you used to live together as kids? it's more likely than you think, sometimes you just gotta pine over apple cider and call it a night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-17 10:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyBlakeney/pseuds/TheLadyBlakeney
Summary: Every year, Selina waits for Bruce to appear with a bottle of apple cider and the memories of years past.Every year, Bruce goes to Selina with a bottle of apple cider in hand to see her smile.
Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	take me to the otherside

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this suddenly in the spur of the moment and since it's still halloween where i am, just know that we're in the spooky season
> 
> but like...not that spooky
> 
> unbeta'd. we die like bruce wayne's parents. pls enjoy whatever this is

When the wind came, Selina knew that it was Bruce.

“You found out where I lived?’ she asked the shadow that she knew was in the window.

Her mouth turned into a smile. “Creep.”

He shut the window, which clicked shut a lot quieter than when it opened.

“What kind of a person would I be if I forgot tonight?” he answered rather than rising to her jibe.

She turned. It’s not like she had plans other than reading a book she’d bought from the old bookshop down on 5th that she really liked, because the owner didn’t ask too many questions and stocked up on all the editions of poetry that Selina would never admit that she loved.

He set the bottles down on the table. It thudded with the weight of glass.

He opened the bottle, and nudged it toward her side of the table.

The light is low, and if Selina squinted, she could see the thirteen year old kid sitting across from her, except that time they’d gone up to the bridge hadn’t they? And the moon had been full, perfect for a long Halloween night...

“This seems like a good way to die,” he’d muttered, as he’d stuck the bottle inside of his threadbare coat.

“Shut up, bat boy,” she’d said, because when she’d found a bat living in their little hideaway, she’d forced him to be the one to get rid of it. “We’re not gonna die.”

“No, but I might drop the cider,” he said, and Selina had to fight against every instinct that she had to roll her eyes. 

“Stop worrying so much,” she said, and then they’d climbed the bridge up to the top.

Selina unzipped her own jacket when they got up to the top, and pulled out the threadbare blanket she’d stuffed inside, and spread it over her legs, and Bruce’s, because he was sitting next to her.

It just made sense to share body heat, when the wind tore through you and the moon was lovely but it wasn’t the sun in your hair, and when you wanted to feel not so lonely at night.

As Bruce struggled to open the bottle with numb fingers, she felt a warmth in her heart that didn’t have anything to do with the blanket.

As he succeeded, she waited for him to take a drink, only for him to freeze.

“We don’t have cups.”

“Duh.”

“But what if we get germs?”

The annoyance returned. She stole the bottle from his grip.

“Bruce, if we’re gonna catch anything from each other, we would’ve already.”

The cider made its way down her throat, earthy and slightly warm, and it was perfect. 

She tilted her head back to look at the sky. So many times she looked down at the ground, or across the horizon at the buildings from the city across the river. 

Then she looked at the boy sitting next to her and saw that he was already looking back.

“You told me that time,” Bruce said, and suddenly she was nineteen again and the moon was breaking in through the window, “that this was the best cider I’d ever have. You were right.”

“Course I was right,” Selina said. “I’m always right.”

Bruce smiled and looked down, but said nothing.

“Thanks,” she said, and she hoped that he knew it was for the cider. For seeing her. For making the effort to find out where she lived. For sharing with her memories wrapped up in a shawl of cold autumn gusts and high rises. 

For being there. For being here. For choosing her again and again.

For everything.

And when she saw his smile, she knew Bruce understood.


End file.
